


shit, i'm still dreaming

by untokki



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, California, Canon Compliant, Comfort, M/M, Mild Smut, Rimming, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untokki/pseuds/untokki
Summary: He's not perfect.He doesn't like what he is.But Yifan has enough love to make up for what Yixing lacks.





	shit, i'm still dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> title from "faygo dreams" by 6 dogs  
> (which is a song that actually really makes me think of yifan? y'all should listen.)
> 
> guys? guys. guys?? i did this. my goal for 2018 was to write smut, or even attempt smut. and i did it. fucking gnarly!

There was a part of Yixing, somewhere deep in the depths of his brain, that didn't enjoy what he was. There was  _ something _ that Yixing could never pinpoint; a feeling gnawing at the back of his skull, as if nails were scraping down the curved bone and snipping at his spine. 

When he smiled at himself in the mirror, he pressed a finger against his cheek. The dimple that dug into his skin wasn't deep enough–it was always  _ deeper  _ when his smile was real, when his smile wasn't forced. He was sure, with the number of photos that came out with each event he attended, someone would notice the lack of joy in that little feature of his.

He had a headache that had been attacking his mind for a week. Most of the time, it was a dull pain, like a bruise that had been pressed against. When he stared at his reflection in the mirror, under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, it thrummed against his skull like a bomb. The bags under his eyes seemed darker in the artificial light, and with the amount of makeup typically caked onto his face, he had almost forgotten such displeasing discoloration existed.

He wasn't supposed to have imperfections.

He was supposed to look like a god among men. He was supposed to be desirable. He was supposed to be idolized. He was supposed to be sought after by young fans who thought they stood a chance.

He was getting old and he was losing sleep. He wasn't eating as much as he needed. He wasn't even dancing as much as he would have liked. His waist ached as if he was working himself half to death in a Korean practice room again.

Yixing felt like he was being strangled, but each time he batted away the attacking and constricting hands around his throat, there was nothing. 

He dropped his head, his shoulders slacking and his hands pressed against the granite countertop. He stared at the cold, white tiles below his bare feet, and he felt as if the perfect ceramic squares were swirling beneath him. His breath hitched when he felt arms around his waist. He was too warm in to the Californian heat, and the body warmth pressed against him wasn't helping his headache.

“You've been in here forever,” Yifan said softly, his teeth nipping at the stud pierced in Yixing’s lobe. The elder was holding his breath, so it didn't creep against Yixing’s sensitive neck.

“I was just thinking about things,” Yixing replied in the same tone, letting his body rest against Yifan’s rather than relying on the vanity. His head fell back against the broad chest, and he realized Yifan wasn't wearing a shirt.

“What kind of things?” 

Yixing could see that his boyfriend was looking at their reflections in the mirror, and his large hands ran over Yixing’s hips in soothing circles. He always knew how to get the kinks out of Yixing’s waist. When the pain was unbearable, and they still lived in the dorms together, Yixing would never end his day without a massage from those big, warm hands. He wanted to indulge in the feeling for as long as he could.

“Nothing important,” Yixing hummed, finally turning in his lover’s hold. His arms went up to rest on his shoulders, with his hands loosely hanging behind Yifan’s neck. He peered up into those brown eyes and let a smile rest on his face.

Yifan had seen his dimples too many times to know when something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice so soft that Yixing would have missed it if he so much as leaned back.

“I'm okay.”

“Yixing, what's bothering you?” the taller man sighed, bringing Yixing closer, and basically making him rest his head against his chest. 

Yixing felt like he didn't deserve gestures like that, especially not when they were coming from Yifan.

From the first moment they met, Yixing thought of the elder as someone from another world. Even with his awkward smile, and his hair that was too long and too greasy, Yixing wanted nothing more than Yifan to succeed. He had always seen Yifan as perfect. He couldn't understand what a man like Yifan would want with him.

“Is it the same thoughts you've been having for as long as I've known you?” Yifan asked, his hands traveled up to cup Yixing’s face. Had it been anyone else, Yixing would have felt a little offended by the accusation, but this was Yifan. He knew Yixing better than either of them could admit.

“Yes,” the younger said quietly.

Yixing had always been outwardly humble. He never accepted compliments, and if he did, it was halfheartedly. His diffident personality had plagued him his whole life, and it wasn't a pleasant mindset to mix with his perfectionist and obsessive tendencies. Whatever he did had to be  _ perfect _ . If one step was wrong in a dance, he would start from the very beginning. If one lyric didn't flow correctly, he would scrap the whole song. 

Yifan never minded. Yifan had enough love for Yixing to make up for the lack of self-appreciation the younger showed.

“Yixing,” he whispered, leaning down. Yixing stood on his toes to meet him halfway, knowing exactly what the elder wanted when he moved his head and closed his eyes like that. They kissed, but it wasn't anything more than a press of their lips, but Yixing felt his entire body relax with the soft contact. Yifan treated him like glass, sometimes, and Yixing really needed to be held in such a way from time to time.

“You're so mean to yourself,” Yifan said when they pulled apart, they noses barely brushing. Their eyes crossed just to look at each other. “I can't believe you don't see the wonderful man I see.”

_ Because I'm not wonderful,  _ Yixing wanted to say,  _ But who's Yifan to lie? _

Yifan forced Yixing to wrap his legs around his waist, and Yifan hoisted him up with the assistance of his large hands under Yixing’s thighs. He carried him into the bedroom, the orange sky bleeding onto the unmade bed. The sight of the red sun kissing the cool ocean made Yixing sigh contently. The shadows of the palms outside the window swayed over the side of Yifan’s face, and Yixing couldn't help but think the aesthetics of the beach state matched the elder too well. Yifan was perfect in every situation.

“I brought you here so I could be with the man I love in the place I love,” Yifan whispered, spreading Yixing’s legs just far enough so he could fit between them. He turned and kissed Yixing’s kneecap, holding up the thin leg so he could do so. “Isn't it different? Being here, acting as if no one else exists?”

“It is,” Yixing muttered, not taking his eyes off of the man hovering in front of him. His leg dropped down to the mattress when Yifan stopped holding it up.

“When we're in this house, Yixing,” he said, falling down slightly so he could rest on his forearms, caging the younger between them, “All that matters is you.”

“Don't say it like that,” Yixing almost whimpered the words, turning his head away. He could barely make out the inked  _ Fortitude _ that was directly in front of his eyes, but he knew Yifan’s body well enough to know the exact placement of the word.

“Why not? It's true. This is a little paradise for us, Yixing. I want you to feel at peace here. I want you to walk down to the shore and forget all your worries. I want you to feel safe here, without prying eyes. I want you to feel loved,” he moved down the bed with his last sentence, his head hovering over Yixing’s boxer covered pelvis, “I'll make sure you always feel loved.”

Yixing lifted his hips off the mattress the moment Yifan’s long fingers found his waistband, and the fabric was pulled off and tossed away from the bed in the blink of an eye. He was already half hard, and he would never admit that the reason was Yifan’s words of affection in his low voice.

He expected a hand around his length, or warm, wet breath against the tip, but he was bracing himself for nothing. Instead, Yifan let featherlight kisses touch against Yixing’s inner thighs. Every press of his lips tickled Yixing, and small sighs left his lips as he let his eyes flutter closed.

He gasped when a kiss was placed on his puckered entrance, but he didn't open his eyes. He gripped the bed sheets beneath his body and spread his legs just a little wider. Yifan’s arms hooked around his thighs, his tongue darting out around his entrance, and slowly running over the joints of his thighs. When he came back to where Yixing needed him most, Yifan lathered his hole in saliva before pushing in the tip of his tongue.

Yixing mewled at the feeling, his body immediately finding pleasure from the intrusion because of Yifan’s need to take him the moment they woke up that morning. The wet warmth against his walls made his knees fall together, locking behind Yifan’s head. He turned his head into one of the soft pillows surrounding him, as his thin fingers grabbed at the sheets, stopping his moans from getting too loud as Yifan slowly thrusted his tongue in and out.

Yixing felt as if he was dreaming.

How was it that someone like Yifan could treat him like a perfect man? Like he was worth all his time? Yifan made it seem like he lived to love Yixing, and he loved to care for him, so why, in Yixing’s right mind, did he ever doubt his boyfriend for a second?

His hand traveled away from the mattress and draped over the back of Yifan’s neck, his fingers curling around the soft, short hairs there before pressing down at the top of his scalp.

It was enough to make Yifan’s tongue go deeper, for it to press in all the right places and make Yixing’s back arch off the bed. 

Yixing would have loved to finish like that, with Yifan’s face pressed against him and his large hands roaming on his thighs. The loud whine he let out when the elder pulled away was unexpected, even to Yixing, and he buried his face further into the pillow beside him.

“You're so gorgeous,” Yifan whispered, and from the shifting of the mattress, Yixing could tell he was moving off the bed. The slick sounds that floated around the room made the tips of Yixing’s ears burn, and he spread his legs as far as he could. The wet tip pressed against his entrance made a moan fall from his lips, just as he his hands grabbed onto Yifan’s shoulder to pull him into a kiss.

“Everything about you is amazing,” Yifan whispered, their lips ghosting together, and his eyelashes barely touching Yixing’s cheeks. Yifan slowly pushed in, so that just the head was inside Yixing’s warmth, before taking his smaller hand and kissing the back of it. “I don't know how I got so lucky.”

_ I’m the lucky one _ , Yixing thought, but every word in his mind was replaced with a sigh of pleasure when Yifan finally pushed all the way in, his hips meeting the flat plain of Yixing’s ass. His thin legs wrapped around the elder’s waist, and he took Yifan’s hand down to the side of his head, intertwining their fingers.

“Everytime I look at you, I fall in love again,” the elder said softly, tilting his head as he looked at Yixing from above. His free hand held his waist, but the thumb moved his circles against his hip bone, underneath the shirt neither of them bothering to take off. “I see that teenager that was almost crying on the staircase in an entertainment company. I see the boy I debuted with who refused to be anything but perfect. I see the man who's overcome so many challenges in his life. I see the most popular singer in China. I see the man I want to spend my life with.”

Yixing didn't want to cry, because he knew the tears would make Yifan stop his gentle movement, so he covered his eyes with the arm that wasn't being held. 

“I see a beautiful man. I see these adorable dimples that I've wanted to kiss since the first time I saw them come out. I see this talent that you've given to world, and even more than you keep inside because you don't think you're good enough.”

Yixing could barely open his mouth, as Yifan had hit the right spot, and all he could manage was a faint, “Yifan.”

“You're perfect, Yixing,” he muttered, keeping one hand on the younger’s the waist and the other with the smaller hand, “You're so, so perfect.”

“ _ Yifan _ ,” Yixing moaned out, as the elder began going faster, harder, as if he could work them towards their climaxes now that he had spoken to Yixing like that. Though, his words didn't stop, even as Yixing was moaning and sighing louder than him.

“You're so important to me,” Yifan muttered, his head thrown back, his hair dripping, “You're the best thing in my life.”

Yixing could only respond with chants of the elder’s name, before he bit down on his forearm to stop the screams he knew would come with his climax. His chest heaved, his shirt soiled with the translucent white. He felt like he could cry, scream, and die all at once, and it wasn't that pain in the back of his mind telling him to do so. It was the man grunted as he hovered above him, holding his hand like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. It was the love that found him when their gazes met. 

“I love you,” Yixing said softly, his breath catching when Yifan came. The warmth flooded over him, as Yifan rested his head against the younger’s shoulder. When he caught his breath, he whispered back. “I love you so much.”

Yifan shifted, so he wasn't crushing Yixing under his weight. He pulled the shirt off the younger, with the help of Yixing lifting his arms, before he went into the bathroom. He turned off the light when he left the room, a damp towel in his hand.

As Yifan cleaned him off, Yixing let out a tiny sigh. He closed his eyes, just as Yifan laid down beside him. The headache was gone, but it could have just been from the distraction. 

No, he decided, as he turned over to let his arms rest over Yifan’s waist. It was because of Yifan.

It was because Yifan welcomed him into his Los Angeles home and gave him the key. It was the fact that Yifan kissed him senseless as they sat in the beach the night before. It was because Yifan believed Yixing was perfect, that Yixing felt the tiniest bit worthy of his love.

 


End file.
